A New Friend for Dinner
by GlarZey
Summary: Hannibal and Bateman have dinner.


"I do wish we could chat longer but," Hannibal paused for a moment and looked at the plane passengers disembarking from the plane in front of him. "I'm having a new friend for dinner. Bye."

He moved the mouthpiece back to the rest of the machine, hearing Clarice's last, frantic words to him before it switched off with a click. He balanced his fingers on the phone and thought about the woman at the other end, probably still calling his name. She was the only person he had ever felt any affection towards, really, but there was no way they could be together. But Hannibal Lecter had been lucky; a distraction was waiting for him.

A businessman from wallstreet, a man by the name of Patrick Bateman, stepped off the plane and looked around in a cocaine-induced anxiety for a few moments, dragging a hand through his hair to make sure it is perfect. Sweat pours from his face but he keeps the long Armani suit on to keep the knife with the serrated edge hidden. Hannibal recognizes him; he was just like he had predicted. Perfectly tanned, quite young and a beautiful set of muscles. He was going to be perfect.

Bateman saw the hand wave at him from the shade and began walking towards it, noting the cheap clothes worn by everyone else. He was very disappointed when he finally saw the person he had flown here to meet. He didn't have the professional air about him as Patrick had expected, more a sinisterly laid back manner. The voice, however, told Patrick that the man was better than he appeared. The accent was wonderful.

"Hello Patrick," Hannibal offered a hand to the psychopath, but Patrick had no interest in touching the man in front of him.

"Call me Bateman," was his response. He didn't want any sort of personal relationship with anyone, let alone Hannibal, but still needed some assistance in the problems going on in his head.

"It's better for us to get to know one another. It will greatly help with my work and your recovery."

Patrick gave Hannibal an annoyed look, but seeing the face smiling up at him he realized that there was no point arguing.

"Fine. Can we get the meal you promised now? If you haven't gotten good seats at a five-star restaurant I'm going to cut open your neck and pour acid into you through the hole."

"Yes, we can go there now," Hannibal responded and noted Patrick's twinge of anger as Hannibal ignored the obvious thread. "We have the restaurant to ourselves and I have a special meal organized for us. It should cater to our unique tastes in meals."

"Right," Bateman straightened his hair again, "Let's just go eat."

* * *

><p>Hannibal pulled out the chair of the long, smooth, wooden table and motioned for Patrick to sit in it. The invitation was accepted after a moments pause.<p>

"I will bring the food in for us. Please wait here for a moment, and don't be nervous, Patrick." Hannibal receded into the darkness of the rest of the room, his footsteps echoing as he walked away from Patrick. After little more than a few minutes, Bateman could hear the wheels of a trolly behind him, scratching the polished floor and causing a slight flinch from Patrick.

The food trolly rolled into view, shocking Patrick once he saw what was on it. In the center of the platter were two large mounds of flesh, both with a slight point at the top, and they were sliced in a delicate fashion, from the edge of the areola down almost to the bottom in a criss-crossed pattern. A saw, smelling of some sort of wine, was dripped onto the severed breasts. Small amounts of lettuce and tomato, among other things, were ornately set up around the meal.

Bateman was silent for a moment, not expecting this sort of meal, but happy for the chance to eat the fatty mammary meat. "L-let's eat then..." he finally said, bringing a smile to Hannibal's face. They each took a breast onto their plates and began to cut off pieces and eat them.

_This,_ though Patrick, _is much better than raw brains._ There was no talking, just the sounds of two men chewing and swallowing the flesh of a once beautiful young woman. But Hannibal noticed something was missing. He excused himself from the table, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he got up. After 40, maybe 50 seconds he returned, holding two glasses and a bottle of Montalbano wine.

Hannibal put each glass on the table and poured the wine into them. "I find this meal best with a nice chianti," he told Patrick, who nodded.

"I personally prefer chardonnay."

Hannibal smiled down at Bateman then took his seat and continued eating, both pausing for drinks at regular intervals. As the meal went on they began talking, growing friendlier and friendlier as they confessed their crimes and drank more wine. By the end of the dinner they were laughing like old friends. But Hannibal's somewhat darker intentions were yet to be noticed by Patrick.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm really not feeling this story. Might write the sex part sometime in the future but not now. I'll work on other stuff.


End file.
